


Decoy

by lacemonster



Series: Prey [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Canon-Typical Violence, Choking, Come Eating, Comeplay, Deepthroating, Domestic Violence, Drug-Induced Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Guilt, Humiliation, Incest, Light Bondage, M/M, Needles, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Underage Sex, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 06:32:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11397087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacemonster/pseuds/lacemonster
Summary: Sequel to "Prey".Owlman and Talon have taken over Wayne manor. Talon has captured Nightwing and Robin but Batman remains on the loose. Owlman is determined to catch him--but Talon thinks he could afford to spend a little more time at home, especially with their captured birds.





	Decoy

**Author's Note:**

> CONTENT WARNING. This story contains non-con, incest, abuse, and underage elements. I've done my best to add all the tags but I'm not perfect. Please don't read this if you're feeling unsure about the tags.
> 
> So this is a follow-up to my story "Prey". In the end, it's just really gross smut, so you don't really need to read the first story to understand this one.
> 
> I plan to make this a trilogy. As such, the first scene is some very small plot stuff (lol, plot) to bridge the all three stories. If you're just here for the porn, you can probably skip the first scene entirely. The first scene adds to some of the elements of this story but it's not completely necessary to read.
> 
> I posted and edited this at 3 in the morning so I apologize if there are any glaring mistakes. I may read over it once more when my brain is functioning and update it. But I've been working on it for awhile and I feel more anxious not posting it, so here I am submitting it and getting it out of the way.

 

The front doors opened, revealing a red-haired man in its path. He quietly shut the door behind him, moving further into Wayne manor. He paused in the parlor, coming across a series of crudely wired steel monitors in the middle of an otherwise luxuriously furnished room.

The monitors revealed different images of the estates. One screen in particular caught the man’s eye—and he moved in closer to get a better look.

His stalker leaned against the doorway to the parlor, watching him carefully.

“Hello, Mazahs. Are you here to crash the party as usual?” Talon said bluntly. There was a pause in Alexander’s movements—and Richard took some pride in knowing that even after all the powers Luthor absorbed, he could still catch him offguard.

Alexander turned around, hands up in surrender. One of his hands held a case.

“I'm just here to drop off some information.”

“You mean you want to get a good look at the manor, for when you decide to turn traitor _again_ ,” Richard said drolly. Still, he nodded towards the nearest table. “Set it over there.”

Alexander didn't move, not right away. His eyes still lingered on the monitor he had been so invested in.

“So it's true. You do have people holed up in this place.”

At that, Richard couldn't help but feel amused. He pushed himself off the wall, moving closer. Wanting to sneak a peek at them for himself. He did enjoy watching them. “Owlman likes to call them hostages. I like to call them pets.”

“Fun, fun. You picked yourself up some friends. I always thought you could use some more,” Alexander said dryly, and he walked away from the monitor without so much as a second glance.

Richard, ever the showoff, felt annoyed by Alexander’s apathy. He couldn't resist glaring into the man’s back, eyes following him as he idly wandered toward the table. Alexander picked up the nearest trinket set on the surface—some old, empty vase—seeming bored.

“Those ‘friends’ happen to be Batman’s allies. The little one is Batman’s _son_.” Tired of Alexander looking at nothing when he _should_ have been facing Richard, the acrobat swiftly climbed on top of the table, forcing Alexander’s gaze upon him. Smirking, Richard added, “I imagine Batman’s kin will make for some pretty good bargaining chips. Don't you agree?”

Alexander considered him for a moment. His face broke out into a smile but Richard could sense the underlying annoyance in his gaze. It didn't scare him, even though Alexander had every means to kill him. Richard wasn't half as strong as any members of the Crime Syndicate—but killing Richard meant pissing off Thomas. Besides, Richard liked to believe all of his years of knowing the Crime Syndicate had earned him a sort of safety. The Crime Syndicate didn't love him, no, and they certainly didn't trust him, but they could tolerate him. They could even have some affection towards him.

Indeed, Alexander patted Richard on the cheek. The same as he did when Richard was a child—before he turned traitor, that is. And Richard blinked, not sure what to make of the action that was almost condescending.

Alexander leaned in, his smile wide—and ingenuine. “But they're still _not_ Batman, are they?”

Richard steeled himself. Coolly, he responded, “Weren't you the one _bragging_ about how you'd have Superman in your clutches in an instant?”

Alexander frowned.

“Owlman and I have our plans,” Richard said dismissively. He stretched his arms over his head. He caught Alexander eyeing him closely and he sighed extra softly when he finally lowered his arms. “I wouldn't expect you to get it.”

Alexander didn't bother with the false pretenses any longer. He spat in a harsh voice, “You don't even know where Owlman _is_.”

“I don't have to,” the acrobat replied, drawing his knees to his chest. “He doesn't need to tell me where he goes.”

“He doesn't _want_ to tell you where he goes. You don't matter to him—not anymore.”

Alexander was off his rocker. Per usual. But there was a chord that struck. Owlman had been less communicative lately. “What's that supposed to be mean?”

Alexander shrugged, trying to look casual. “I mean, you were just a replacement for his brother. In the beginning, he killed his brother, and then he took you in: a boy, black haired and blue eyed, and the same age that Bruce Wayne was when he was killed alongside his parents that day. But since in this world, Bruce Wayne is alive… well, I guess that means good ol’ Tom has no need for you anymore, does he?”

Richard said nothing, his gaze dark. But Alexander wasn't the least bit afraid—he just gave a chipper smile and finally set down the case right next to Richard. The steel case made a dull thud as it was set down.

Richard wanted nothing more than to slit Alexander’s throat but he just clenched his fists by his side, instead. If he was going to attack… then he needed to do it where Alexander couldn't call for a bolt of lightning to strike them both and burn the damn house down.

“Well, I'm off,” Alexander said, heading for the door. But not without adding, “But _do_ let me know when you see Thomas— _assuming_ you see him first.”

Richard’s narrowed eyes followed him. Unable to keep his mouth shut, he called after him, “I can't wait for your little hellspawn to be born. Then you can go back to playing ‘hero’ and Ultraman will finally kill you. But don't worry—your little one will always be accepted in the parliament.”

Alexander paused in his footsteps.

Richard waited for the bolt of lightning.

He smirked in smug satisfaction when it didn't come.

 

Thomas hadn't taken the time to explore the manor. When he wasn't roaming Gotham in search of Batman, he spent most of the time in the batcave, trying to find any clues as to where he could have gone. After a long search he returned to the estates and found himself wandering.

Hanging above the fireplace was an almost familiar family portrait, but it was missing an important component. Thomas gazed at his parents’ faces and found himself grimacing. Just looking at them brought back memories of his cowardly, sniveling father and his entitled, nagging mother.

“Disgusting,” he grumbled to himself. If the fireplace was lit, he would have tossed the painting into the flames, just like he had done on his planet after he disposed of his kin. Batman’s whole house was overflowing in sentimentalities. Useless trinkets and photos and heirlooms.

It was no wonder Thomas never stopped by.

He walked toward the monitor. Found that his captives were still rightly imprisoned. He paused at the screen, watching the mirrored Richard Grayson huddling the little one close in his arms. The same feeling of revulsion rose up Thomas’ chest. This Earth was so weak. Coddling children—old enough to walk and _fight_ —like they would an infant who was too useless to care for itself.

Despite his disgust, Thomas’ gaze lingered on the boy’s face, which was partially shadowed in the dim lighting. The boy was dark-skinned and his eyes narrowed—but the similarities he did have with his sire were remarkably close in other ways. Their face shape was nearly identical to what Thomas remembered of his little brother—right before he shot him dead in that alley all those years ago.

“Richard,” Thomas called out to the vast manor. He was greeted with silence. Either his boy had dismissed his duties or he was playing games. The former was very possible. Talon had very little loyalty—his obedience could only be bought with lots of attention or discipline, and Thomas had been absent for what might have been too long.

But if he was playing games, Thomas had an idea of where to find him.

He moved upstairs, toward the master bedroom. The layout of the house remained the same as his had been. And whenever Thomas was in doubt, he could always find Richard in his bed.

He pushed the door open. Thomas’ gaze settled on the wide bed, eyes fixated on the naked body before him, before travelling up to a pair of mischievous blue eyes.

“What took you so long?”

Thomas gave Richard one measured look before moving further into the bedroom, pulling off his cowl.

“You're supposed to be watching the prisoners. You know they're touching each other, right?”

Richard’s eyes followed him closely as he crossed the room. “They can't escape. They're chained and the room is fortified.”

“It doesn't matter,” Thomas said coolly. He moved to the dresser, began to pull at his uniform. Each piece of armor landed on the surface with a thud. “I gave you an order. We may need them if we want Batman.”

“So you haven't found him yet,” Richard said, his voice a touch more quiet.

Disobeying an order was nothing new with Richard. Thomas could ignore that, depending on the circumstances.

But _insulting_ him was an unforgivable offense.

The rage pushed through Thomas’ chest in an instant, fiery hot. Blood boiling, he quickly turned toward the acrobat, hand on his throat in an instant, pushing him back onto the bed. He crawled over him, knees sinking into the mattress, his weight pushing his hand harder against the younger’s throat. Enough to make him choke, gasp. Widened eyes looked back up at him, without their usual glint.

He knew he had every right to kill Richard then and there. His life was his to own.

Thomas lessened his grip anyways. There was a stirring in Richard’s gaze, at first what seemed to be relief, but then more characteristically, transformed into something else. Thomas felt a hand running up his underarmor, feeling his stomach.

Thomas tensed beneath the touch. Still mad, furious even. But working with Richard was always like walking on a balance. The boy needed the drive in order to keep walking. He wasn't like the rest of the Crime Syndicate, where everyone pushed and pulled until they got their way. Richard was perfectly willing to cross the line, to _submit_ , so long as it satisfied him in the end.

Thomas supposed that the boy never demanded much.

Thomas grabbed the hand roaming his body, his grip less than gentle, and pinned it against the mattress. With his free hand, he pulled down his pants, past his balls, revealing his semi-hard erection. Richard glanced at it.

He grabbed Richard by the chin, forcing his gaze upward. The boy looked almost pathetic, face smushed by his hand, waiting instead of _acting_.

“You want it so bad, don't you?” Thomas said, voice lowering. “You play so proud when you're angry but really, all you want is to get on your knees for me. You've been begging for my cock since you were _ten_.”

Richard groaned lightly, and Thomas couldn't tell if it was because of how tightly he was holding his face, or if it was the way he was talking.

It didn't matter if he liked it or if he was in pain. Thomas liked having his prodigee pinned underneath him and disgraced—no matter how easy or difficult it was to do. The complete sense of control fuelled the heat in his body. Started making him hot and hard even before the part where he had the boy’s hand or mouth on his dick.

Thomas got on his knees, straightening his back and pulling off his shirt. He tossed it aside, glanced down at where Richard’s legs were spread on either side of him. He wet two of his fingers in his mouth, not out of mercy but simply because he preferred Richard wet, and pressed in.

It had been too long, Thomas realized. His partner practically clung to his fingers, so hot and tight. Richard even seemed to flinch in response.

“I'm surprised you're so tight,” Thomas said, without any kindness. “Thought for sure you'd be crawling on your knees for my colleagues by now. That or any weak earthling with a cock hanging between their legs.” His fingers pushed in deep. Down to the knuckle. Richard's body tensed up, his jaw clenching. In a low voice, he murmured, “You'd let them ravage you, fuck you wide open. Anything to fill you up. It's your _weakness_.”

No argument, just a low groan as Thomas thrusted his fingers in at a quick pace. Richard tried to look proud but there was no denying the flush on his skin. It was strange how much the thought of Thomas’ own words seemed to work him up. Normally the boy would be egging him on.

“I could hand you off to Ultraman—but he wouldn't be gentle. He'd split you in half.” Thomas could feel the anger rising in his chest, the blood boiling. “A worthy punishment for your lack of loyalty, perhaps. But you'd probably enjoy it too much.”

He crooked his fingers. He always knew where Richard’s prostate was—he just never paid much attention to it. But he was in a bad mood and he'd do anything he could to take advantage of someone else to make him feel better.

Richard’s response, a soft moan, satisfied him.

“Answer me already,” Thomas breathed. He expected a little more banter than this. He continued to tease the spot. “Is that what you want, Ultraman’s Kryptonian cock ripping you open?”

Thomas ran his free hand down the acrobat’s sensitive, inner thigh—just to watch him squirm. The hand moved further still, finally resting on a knee.

Thomas tilted his head, gazing at the faint mark on Richard’s skin.

Thomas’ gaze lowered, the thumb brushing over the scar. Richard shuddered in response at the touch, eyes coming to a close.

“Come on,” Richard breathed, finally breaking his silence. “Are we going to do this or are you going to make me wait?”

Thomas’ hand wrapped around Richard’s knee, pushing his legs apart. He withdrew the fingers, the tip of his erection lining with Richard’s entrance. At that, Richard seemed to tense in anticipation—and that’s when Thomas gripped hard, hard enough to where his hand ached and Richard gasped. Richard immediately grabbed his forearm, startled.

“What are you doing? That hurts—”

Thomas’ eyes narrowed in response to that. At that, Richard looked almost startled—realizing a second too late that he said something wrong.

Thomas already had the answer he was looking for—but he pried anyways, asking, “How’d the cut on your knee happen? It wasn’t there before.”

“It’s been there for awhile—”the response was quick, startled, and his following words felt almost like an afterthought, “You would _know_ if you had been around—”

“The placement and the precision indicates otherwise. This is a surgical scar.” In a lower voice, Thomas murmured, “If your knee had needed repair, I would have handled it myself.”

“It's just a scratch—”he said, words strained underneath the pain of Thomas’ unrelenting grip. His sentence was cut off by a pained groan.

“If you have medical troubles, you come to me. I can open you up myself.” Voice lowering, almost to a growl, “Lungs. Heart. Spine. _I_ take care of you.”

“Stop, you're going to break it—”

“Who did your surgery, hm? Not the knee. Your _face_.”

“What are you talking about?” Richard said with a sharp gasp. He was practically writhing now, hands reaching to shove him off but then choosing against it.

Still trying to play in-character when the _real_ Richard would easily be begging for more pain. The pretender couldn't even stand to fake an erection.

“Your imitation is remarkable. Your appearance almost had me fooled.”

“Please,” he said, and Thomas almost questioned his own judgment, because _please_ was slightly more familiar. Still, the realization dawned on Thomas, and the Richard before him— _Dick_ , as he went by—continued on, “He set me up for it. I had no choice.”

“ _Who_ set you up?”

 _Talon_. He knew even before Batman’s boy looked up at him.

“He's going to kill him,” Dick said.

For fuck’s sake.

Thomas was up in an instant, grabbing Dick roughly by the arm. Dragging him off the mattress to his feet, where he stumbled like a goddamned child trying to keep up.

“Where are you taking me?” he said, and Thomas could see the way he struggled to resist prying Thomas’ vicelike grip off his arm. The way he tried to bear the pain in fear of making the situation worse. It made Thomas want to snap his arm altogether.

“I’m throwing you back in your cell.”

“He’ll know. He said he'd kill him if I failed—please, they're in my old bedroom, the room at the end of the hall—”

Richard's bedroom too, oddly enough. Thomas thought back on the feed on the monitor, the image of his nephew being held in the prison, and realized too late that it was probably old footage. Thomas dragged Dick along with him down the hall after all, slamming open the door where it rattled off the wall with a bang.

Richard— _his_ Richard, this time—looked up at him.

“Good evening, Doctor Wayne,” he said, voice humming. But his gaze seemed more invested in Dick.

Dick stopped struggling in Thomas’ grip long enough to look up at Talon. His stomach turned when he saw the needle in his parallel self’s hand, the tip perfectly positioned at Damian’s neck. His throat tightened at the rest of the sight—the boy, naked and blindfolded, strung up by cuffs to the top of the closet door. There was a light buzzing sound that filled the silence of the room, and it didn't take a genius to understand what the harness wrapped around Damian’s hips was keeping locked in place. Dick could see Damian’s toes, just barely touching the carpet, struggling to keep his balance as the vibrator continued to work inside of him.

“What's the meaning of this?” Thomas demanded.

“You've been working so hard lately that I thought you, me, and our little caged birds could have some fun,” Talon said, resting his head against Damian’s. Damian, blinded, seemed startled by the touch—flinching in response—but Talon’s free hand was wrapped around Damian’s cheek, keeping the boy’s head in place. Damian did seem to be aware of the threat poised at his throat, subtly craning his neck to avoid the needle. “Also, I went rummaging through your lab. I hope you don't mind.”

“Enough foolish games. Both Nightwing and Robin should be locked up in their cell, as I _ordered_ , not strewn around like a bunch of your toys.”

“But isn't that such a shame? Capturing these two was part of your plan to get to Batman. Wasn't that the whole point? To be reunited with Brucie again so we could all be one happy parliament?” Talon’s singsong voice lessened when his gaze suddenly darkened. Dick watched carefully, not trusting the look in his mirrored self’s eyes, his heart thumping against his chest. His parallel seemed more unhinged than usual. Voice low, nails digging into Damian’s cheek, Talon murmured, “So don't you think you should spend some quality time with your nephew?”

“Killing him now will ruin everything we worked for. If you tarnish my plans then you'll spend the last, _very_ few, moments of your life _deeply_ regretting it.”

At that, something in Talon’s eyes flickered.

Suddenly the needle pressed in.

Damian’s whole body tensed up, his lips parting in a gasp. Dick’s heart leapt forward.

“No!” he said, yanking his arm from Thomas with sudden strength, trying to move toward Damian. He didn't make it far when something—Thomas’ kick, he realized—struck him in the back of his knee, causing him to stumble.

He was pushed down hard, bare knees hitting the carpet and upper half pinned against the bed he landed beside. He struggled to look up, his dark bangs interfering with his vision. He saw Damian’s lolled head and slouched body.

Then he saw movement. Damian’s body rising and falling with breath.

Dick let out the breath he didn't know he had been holding in. It was hardly relief, his heart was still racing with adrenaline, drumming against his chest.

“Don't worry. It was just an aphrodisiac,” Talon said lightly. “He's so tiny I could just snap his neck if I really wanted to kill him.”

“I can't get through a single week without you threatening to ruin my plans,” Thomas said with a growl, his chest rumbling against Dick’s back. Dick gritted his teeth, body beginning to ache at the amount of pressure Thomas was putting on him. His breath felt squeezed inside his chest. “This is obviously some childish cry for attention.”

“Are you a psychologist now too, Doctor?”

Suddenly, Dick felt Thomas lifting himself off—not completely, but enough to relieve the weight. Enough to breathe again.

“In this scenario, I could either kill you or indulge in your games. If I killed you, there'd be no one to watch the prisoners.” Almost reluctantly, Thomas added, “And your games, while petty, are rather harmless.”

“Enough with the act. There's only one reason to be so stiff at home,” Talon said, and even at Dick’s angle, he could catch the growing smirk on Talon’s face. “Admit it, you can't wait to get your hands on _two of me_.”

There was a pause as the two stared each other down, Dick caught in the middle. Dick could feel and hear Thomas shuffling behind him. His mind immediately went back to the bedroom, where Talon had instructed Dick to seduce this man—before his stupid scar ruined the act—and he remembered seeing Thomas’ erection, so thick and hard. And his demeanor, unkind and impatient. His stomach began to twist.

He wasn't nervous because he already knew what was coming. And he already knew it was going to hurt.

What disgusted him was that there was no way out of this.

Talon seemed satisfied by Thomas’ cooperation. His eyes dark and lusty. But he backed away, returning to the naked boy still strung on the closet door. Every step he took closer to Damian, the harder it was for Dick to stay still underneath Thomas’ hold.

On a nearby dresser was a bag. Talon reached in...

Dick didn't see much else. He was distracted when rough callused hands began to roam his body. Large hands running down his back, along the sensitive spine, and Dick clenched his jaw. Trying not to react as Thomas’ hands touched his skin.

The touch was so light it was almost teasing, making it that much harder for Dick to control himself. He shuddered when his ass was grabbed and lifted.

“Needy one,” Thomas murmured, his voice condescending. Dick felt a low flush of embarrassment warm his body. He couldn't help but react to Thomas’ touch, Dick knew that. Talon had him so well trained to a man’s touch at this point. But he was ashamed that the cruel man’s caresses went to his head _this_ easily.

A hand stroked down the crease of his ass, over his entrance and down to his scrotum. Dick steeled himself, trying not to react. Trying to stay composed with as much dignity as possible. But the light, almost teasing, hand over his most sensitive areas made Dick feel so vulnerable.

Thomas spit on Dick, the sound crude. It landed over his hole, the saliva cool. The feeling made Dick tremble, his knees still spread apart on the unforgiving floor. His hands, finding purchase on the sheets, grabbed on as he willed himself to not focus on the sensations. A wet thumb pushed in.

Dick heard a sudden buzz, drawing his head upwards. In Talon’s hands was a massager—a long wand with a round, vibrating head. Dick’s eyes followed the wand to the cord attached. Dick wondered about its purpose but it all soon made sense.

“Bite,” Talon ordered, placing the cord to Damian’s lips. Damian didn’t respond, seemed to be short of breath. The drugs must have been taking effect already—Damian's skin was flushed, his cock standing, his nipples erect, as he squirmed against the vibrating plug inside of him uncomfortably. When Damian failed to follow his orders, Talon forcefully pried Damian’s lips open for him. Talon added in a low voice, “Don’t you dare let go—or I’ll have to give you another shot.”

Talon turned on the wand’s settings, letting it drop. Damian jolted in place as the object vibrated against his thigh, rolling over the limb until it finally settled in the crook between his legs. He made a soft, almost forlorn noise as the vibrating head—adjusted to the length of the cord he held in his teeth—aligned with his cock. He squirmed in place, seeming torn between craning his body away from the wand or towards it. But as ordered, he didn’t dare drop it.

Talon walked towards the bed, his form blocking Dick’s view of Damian, though the soft moans and buzzing still filled his ears. Talon kneeled on the bed before Dick, one hand pulling up the hem of his top, the other lowering his waistband below his already stiff erection. Dick wasn’t surprised that he was hard—he ruefully suspected that Talon had been getting off to this game for awhile now.

Talon stroked his cock, an air of showmanship to his movements, his eyes all on Thomas.

“How far did you get before finding out who he was? Have you used his mouth yet?”

Thomas’ thumb was replaced by two fingers. Everything about Thomas seemed massive, even right down to his hands. Dick held his breath, already beginning to feel the stretch just from Thomas’s digits. Dick tried to remember to relax.

Talon’s hand brushed the hair out of Dick’s face. He kept pushing on his head, forcing his head back. Dick looked up at him, swallowing. He hated looking at Talon. Hated it to the point where he couldn't even stand to see his own reflection anymore. His fist tightened around the sheets.

“Look at him. I think he's rather handsome, don't you?” Talon said with a wicked grin, thumb running across Dick’s skin.

Thomas’ fingers were removed. Dick could hear the man back up a step.

“Turn around.”

Dick did as ordered. He looked at Thomas—and strangely, his nerves suddenly came back. Talon he had grown used to, but Owlman was a whole new player. They had only met once before, very briefly. There was something about his cold, unforgiving demeanor that instilled a fear inside Dick. A fear that Dick could only imagine as being similar to the power that Batman had over his enemies.

In as many ways that Dick and Talon had their similarities, so did Thomas and Bruce. There was something just as naturally commanding about Thomas’ presence. But the difference was that Thomas was his enemy, not his friend.

But Dick didn't want to compare the two, even as icy blue eyes looked down at him.

His one relief in this situation was that Damian was blinded and far away, though he knew from experience that Talon would eventually change that. It was humiliating to be compliant to their whims but his fear made him willing to submit. He moved to pick himself up onto the bed—but Thomas seemed to disagree with that. He roughly pushed down on Dick’s shoulders, forcing his knees to collide back with the carpet. Thomas stepped forward and Dick found himself trapped between the bed and Thomas’ thighs. His upper back was pressed against the mattress, sheets smoothed against his skin, as Thomas moved forward.

Dick diverted his eyes, heat rushing to his face, as Thomas’ hard cock was directly in front of his face. The head rubbing up against his cheek.

“Isn't this part of your game?” Thomas said, staring down at Dick. “Isn't this what you wanted?”

It wasn't. It was all just Talon’s plot. Dick only wanted to protect Damian from Talon, but even after all that, Talon’s threat turned out to be just another lie.

“Suck on it.”

Dick didn't dare to hesitate. Pinned up against the bed, there was no room for Dick’s arms. He craned his neck, his lips mouthing against Thomas’ cock, awkwardly fumbling to lower the tip into his mouth.

When Dick finally wrapped his lips around the head, Thomas made a low, satisfied hum. Dick closed his eyes, tried not to focus on who he was sucking. Tried not to listen to his voice. Tried to focus his mind elsewhere instead.

Then suddenly, Dick found his head being pushed back into the mattress, the cock in his mouth suddenly sliding deeper—too deep—inside. Dick’s eyes snapped open, watching up close as Thomas climbed up on the bed, his knees on the mattress on either side of Dick’s head. The position forced Dick’s head to crane back, the cock deep inside his mouth.

Deep enough to choke, which Dick did.

Thomas’ cock was thick and the corners of Dick’s lips were already aching to accommodate him. Without so much as a warning to go with the new position, panic immediately spread through Dick’s body. He struggled to remember how to breathe through his nose, the sounds of his breathing more akin to hyperventilating.

“Choke on it.”

He didn't have to be told. He was already there. He was vaguely aware, somewhere in the haze clouding his mind, of the sounds he was making as Thomas gagged him. The crude, pathetic sounds were disgusting and humiliating—but Dick hardly had any pride left since being taken captive, much less at this moment where he was getting lightheaded and fearful. At this point he was just struggling to stay afloat, hands blindly pulling at the carpet as he tried to control himself.

The mattress sunk deeper around Dick as Thomas leaned more of his weight on his knees. Cock _pushing_ into Dick, his throat beginning to burn as he gagged, his eyes wet with hot tears that leaked from the corners of his eyes towards his temples, his jaw aching to accommodate Thomas’ girth.

“You wanted this so bad,” Thomas breathed, a hint of a growl to his breath. “So take it.”

Dick couldn't breathe. His mind was racing but he was certain of that one thought. _Can't breathe, can't can't can't_. He was sucking air in through his nostrils but he couldn't breathe.

The mattress creaked around him, sheets wrinkling, as Thomas face fucked him. Every withdrawal dragged across Dick’s throat uncomfortably, followed by a microsecond of relief when Dick could finally swallow—right before Thomas thrusted in all over again. And again. And again.

Dick couldn't see. His face was wet and his mouth was stretched and his throat was being fucked and he couldn't breathe. He could vaguely hear sounds above him—Thomas’ heated grunts, the wet sounds of his own lips and throat as he was violated, Talon’s sighs as he no doubt pleasured himself to the image of himself choking on Thomas’ cock, as well as fainter sounds in the distance. Sounds almost pained.

Damian was still there. Somewhere. Drugged and tied up with zero clue as to what was happening.

Dick could feel heat begin to prickle on his skin, his vision begin to blur. All he could breathe, see, smell, taste, was Thomas’ flesh.

Thomas’ hand gripped suddenly in his hair, angling his head a little more, dragging his lips across the surface. Using Dick’s mouth as a sleeve rather than letting Dick suck him as ordered.

The bed creaked as Thomas finally lifted himself out, cock pulling out completely. Dick fell forward, coughing for air. But there was no mercy to Owlman. The man roughly pulled on Dick’s arm, dragging him up onto the bed where he all but fell apart on the mattress. He stopped coughing but it all hurt. His throat and chest felt like it was on fire.

His shoulder was pushed toward the bed, his front flush against the mattress. Thomas got on the bed behind him. Dick, exhausted, lifted himself up—to get away, or to present himself, he wasn't even sure. But just as easily, a hand pressed down between his shoulder blades. Forcing him back down.

Thomas’ weight was on top of him, sinking him into the mattress. Dick felt hands on his face—Talon’s, he knew it instantly—wiping away the tears that had collected on his face while he had gagged. It might have been comforting if they were anyone else’s hands.

He could feel Thomas’ heavy cock against the crease of his ass. Felt the entire length of it dragging across his entrance—before he felt it finally push in.

Dick tried to remember to breathe but everything inside his chest felt so sore with every inhale. Dick had taken worse—but his body was still barely prepped, and getting just the head in was a rough process. He struggled to take Thomas’ length. The man’s cock was forcing its way in, inch by inch, Dick’s hole opening up around him.

It took so much effort just to receive him. Friction and heat, thrust by thrust just to bury only a little deeper inside each time. Groans were pulled between Dick’s clenched teeth. His body was already hot and he could feel sweat begin to gather at his hairline. _Fuck_ , he was too big. He was too big.

He heard a low groan above him and suddenly Thomas was pushing into him all at once with one final thrust. Dick gritted his teeth, hands twisting at the sheets. Thomas’s cock filled him completely, hot and thick. Dick’s breath was short, body trembling as he was stuffed wide.

Just as soon as he began to relax, he felt a strong hand in his hair, turning his head towards Talon.

Talon was fully erect, his manhood close to Dick’s face.

“Come on,” Thomas said impatiently,  his hand twisting through the strands of hair, and Dick complied. He swallowed Talon’s cock, heard an almost happy sigh above him. Thomas pushed him further down, impossibly deep. Talon was in Dick’s throat and Dick, already sore, could feel the burn on his skin and throat.

He wished this would just end already.

But Thomas guided Dick’s head along the erection, rather than choking him, and Dick supposed he should be relieved of that much.

“ _Ah_ , yes,” Talon said, as Thomas forcefully bobbed his head. When Thomas’ hands lifted from Dick’s head and toward the acrobat’s hips instead, to angle him up and bury his cock impossibly deeper into his ass, Dick groaned with Talon still inside his mouth. Talon took over the pace of Dick’s sucking, holding his face in place as he slowly rolled his hips, Dick’s lips stroking along the surface.

Hands dug into Dick’s hips, hard enough to hurt, as Thomas pulled out his cock to the tip, before ramming it in again. He kept an even pace, each thrust loosening up Dick’s body a little more each time. Dick winced with every thrust, lips vibrating against Talon’s flesh with every sound he made.

When Dick’s body finally accommodated to Thomas’ size, able to accept his thrusts without any rejection, Thomas built up his pace. Fucking him in slightly faster, more controlled thrusts.

Dick could barely breathe between Talon in his mouth and throat and Thomas’ heavy weight on top of him. When he tried to prop himself up, his arm was wrapped forcefully behind his back, Thomas’ grip absolutely bruising. Dick winced in pain. Thomas’ thrusting seemed to go in deeper, harder. Pace almost unforgiving.

And yet Dick found his breath hitching for new reasons as heat rushed through his body.

It was wrong, he knew it.

He had every reason to be terrified for his life and Damian’s.

But with Thomas behind him, Dick didn't have to stare into his face to find a resemblance. He could just feel. Feel the size of the man’s hands. Feel the weight of the muscular, tall body on top of him. Even his voice, it was a breath off, but it almost sounded like—

Dick shouldn't have been getting turned on but it all harkened back to old, teenhood—possibly childhood—fantasies. Fantasies just like this. Fantasies of being held down and fucked hard by a bigger, stronger, dark-minded man. A fantasy that never came true, even with all of Dick’s sexual experience.

A husky breath, rough and low.

That voice.

Dick’s cock quickly got hard, now aching against the soft sheets as Thomas’ thick cock plowed into him, stretching him wide.

It hurt. It did.

But Dick had fantasized about that type of hurt many times. In that very manor. In that very bedroom. Back when he was a boy, sometimes after a patrol, but usually after a training session.

A training session where he was pinned down to a mat by a man, with an arm wrapped forcefully around his back just like now.

It wasn't bruising back then. _He_ could never be as cruel as Owlman.

But sometimes Dick wished it had bruised.

And Dick could almost replace this filthy situation with those long hidden, dark thoughts. And it could almost make this bearable.

Thomas’ cock hit something inside of him and Dick moaned with Talon’s cock still in his mouth, sparks racing down his spine.

“Like that, Nightwing?” Talon teased, hands massaging through his hair. And Dick was ashamed because God, _yes_ , he did like it. His hard cock rubbed up against the sheets every time Thomas collided against him, each drive forward occasionally brushing up against his prostate. It hurt, it hurt, but he wanted it like this for so long. Had wanted it on this very bed for _years_. “He's good, isn't he? I told you he would be. And to think—you tried to tell me _no_.”

And Thomas’ following thrusts came close but didn't quite hit him the same way, making it clear that Thomas was doing this for his own pleasure and no one else's. Dick groaned almost mournfully, resisting the urge to angle up his hips for _more_.

There was a light thud somewhere in the room. It grabbed Talon’s attention, who pulled away from Dick, giving Dick an opportunity to finally give his jaw a rest. Dick turned his head in Damian’s direction. Behind Talon, Dick could see the boy. Damian’s head was leaned back against the door as he groaned.

Dick stared, almost mesmerized, seeing Damian for the first time in what felt like forever.

It was like Damian had been replaced with a different person.

Dick’s eyes followed the heaving chest extending to the long stretch of his arms. Damian’s lips were wet and pink from biting around the cord for the entire time Dick was being used. His former sidekick’s face was flushed deeply, and he was making these desperate moans that made Dick’s cock stir. He had managed to trap the massager between his thighs, rocking his hips needily against the vibrating head, desperate for friction and contact on his strained erection. He looked both hopeless and shameless, his pride gone as he sought after his orgasm, and even if he wasn’t blinded, Dick had a suspicion that his audience still wouldn’t have been able to stop him from rubbing his cock up against the wand.

When he finally did come, his hips trembled. With nothing to stroke him, his essence didn't shoot so much as it leaked from his cock onto the carpet. His moan sounded unsatisfied and unhappy, more of a whimper than a groan. His body finally relaxed, hanging from the shackled hands, his legs slack. His lips parted, dropping the cord, and the object fell to the ground with a soft thud.

Talon picked himself off the bed, moving towards the panting boy. He picked up the wand off the floor, finally shutting it off. Despite coming, Damian’s erection was still standing, flushed dark in a way that made Dick worry. It didn’t seem natural—and Talon’s threat of giving Damian a second dosage if he dropped the cord made Dick terrified.

As Talon got closer to Damian, Dick could feel his protective senses kick in. He couldn’t let Talon follow up on his threat. The aphrodisiac was already doing too much Damian. Without thinking, he rose up from the bed with one arm—but just as quick, Thomas’ gripped the pinned arm even harder and shoved him back down. Dick bit into the sheets, feeling an ache in his shoulder. He had no doubt that Thomas would know exactly how to dislocate his shoulder—and wouldn't hesitate to do it too.

Talon undid the cuffs, catching Damian from falling him on the ground. There was something uncharacteristically gentle in the way Talon handled Damian. Like he actually _cared_.

Even Damian, sounding dazed and lucid, murmured, “Richard.”

Dick wanted to say something comforting but a rough hand wrapped over his mouth, gripped hard enough to make his jaw ache. Dick saw Talon’s eyes flicker in his direction—and Dick didn’t like the smirk that followed. Didn't like the way that Talon’s eyes seemed to silently communicate with Owlman’s.

“I’m right here, Damian,” Talon said gently.

At that, Dick froze. His heart rate picking up.

“Bring him here,” Thomas spoke up. Talon obeyed, practically cradling Damian in his arms, to the bed.

Dick looked at the face that was placed next to his, lips parted and panting.

“It hurts,” Damian mumbled, voice hazy. He wasn’t in the right state of mind—he’d never confess to such a thing otherwise.

“Take it out,” Thomas ordered and Talon crawled onto the mattress next to Damian, undoing the harness. A faint imprint remained on Damian’s skin where the straps dug into his skin—dark and tender, a sheen of sweat on his skin. The plug was pulled from him, the lube making a lewd sound as the object was removed.

Even though Damian was protesting the object a moment ago, he still squirmed on the bed, making weak sounds that seemed to stab directly into Dick’s chest. Dick was part heartbroken to hear his former sidekick in so much misery, but his wanton voice also made him tremble. Dick’s eyes travelled down the contours of the boy’s body. Between his thighs he noticed that the boy’s cock still had not gone down—he continued to twist blindly on the sheets, onto his front, where his cock made contact against the bed. The boy practically whimpered at the sensation.

“Look at him,” Thomas said, a growl to his voice as Damian sought relief by rubbing his front up against the mattress. The revulsion was thick in Thomas’ voice. “Like a dog. Take care of him.”

Talon gazed in Dick’s direction as he pulled off his clothes, his expression feigning an exaggerated pain. In his most pathetic impression, only passable because he had Dick’s voice, he said, “You can’t make me do it.”

Dick couldn't help but glare this time. Thomas and Talon’s little act was just fucking ridiculous—and the way they mocked Damian, in his weakest state, enraged him. His blood was boiling at the performance.

Then suddenly, Thomas twisted Dick’s sore arm.

The other hand was removed from Dick’s mouth as he let out a shocked, pained cry. Damian paused in his ministrations, long enough to listen, brow furrowed over blinded eyes, but still not quite in a state of mind to register what was happening. Thomas’ hand went back to muting Dick, the grip on Dick’s arm finally removed. Dick’s face was still twisted up, trying to catch his breath, his shoulder and arm still aching and throbbing, heart still beating frantically. He closed his eyes, tried to calm himself down, to focus on breathing and not the pain.

“Okay,” Talon said in a quiet, hurried voice. “I’ll do it.”

Dick’s brow furrowed. Despite his pain, the anger at the imitation still lingered.

Talon finished undressing, lining himself up with Damian’s stretched hole. As the hands gripped Damian’s hips, the boy’s body seemed to lean back, legs spreading. As if presenting himself to his captor.

Against the sheets, Dick could hear him quietly murmur, “ _Please_.”

It was just the aphrodisiac and the blindfold. Dick knew that. But it still hurt to watch. Damian could barely _think_ and he couldn't _see_. Dick knew he should feel terrified instead of jealous, but he couldn’t help it. Since their captivity, Damian had shared his body between both Dick and Talon. Talon played games with them nearly every day, sometimes several times a day.

But even so, Damian never gave himself willingly to Talon. The whole situation was forced, of course, but there was usually an additional struggle on top of it. The boy’s usual stubbornness and haughtiness coming through. And now, to see him fall under Talon’s spell, even whispering Dick’s name as he arched his back up, filled Dick with rage and disgust.

He watched Damian’s swollen pink lips slowly part, gasping, as Talon began to enter him. Thomas picked up his pace again, shallowly fucking Dick as Damian was also spread open. Their faces were close—Damian completely unaware of Dick watching him. Watching him, feeling his breath just barely brush against his skin as he gasped and panted, watching his expression completely melt as Talon slowly slid in, spreading him wider and wider.

Dick hated this feeling. Even more than he hated the way Thomas hurt him.

He hated feeling like he had been replaced.

 _Stop_.

Damian groaned from the back of his throat as Talon went in deep, the sound seeming almost _satisfied_. Dick was furious, his muffled voice protesting uselessly against Thomas’ hand.

The bed shifted around as Dick and Damian were both fucked on the mattress. By the time Thomas removed his hand—instead gripping Dick by the hips, fucking him hard, bodies snapping together—Damian seemed to be falling apart. He was rocking back to meet Talon’s thrusts, his cock pointed and leaking between his legs. His moans so wanton that he might as well have _begged_.

Dick’s mouth felt dry as he watched him. He suddenly couldn’t bring himself to say anything. Even if Damian were to understand the truth, that it was Talon fucking him instead of Dick, it’d only shame him.

Perhaps the more merciful thing would be to keep quiet. To let Damian imagine what he will.

Worse, Dick was afraid that even if he knew, it wouldn’t make a difference.

So he didn’t say a word.

Even as Talon played with the situation.

“I'm so sorry, Damian,” he mimicked, his eyes practically glowing. His thrusts grew deeper, faster. Unlike Dick, Damian was well prepared. Talon fucked into him with ease, the lubrication making filthy noises every time their hips met. “You feel so good.”

Damian didn't seem to linger on the words. Instead he just continued twist his body, angling himself to better meet Talon’s thrusts. Dick diverted his gaze, unable to look into Damian’s desirous expression. But even when he turned, Damian was the loudest one in the room, and each moan haunted Dick no matter if his eyes were shut tight or focused elsewhere.

Thomas suddenly lifted Dick up. Dick shuddered as his body sunk into Thomas’ lap, the already massive cock seeming to push in deeper. When Thomas thrusted upwards, Dick gasped.

Thomas held Dick’s hips in place, thrusting into the same angle. Purposefully. Making Dick moan. Again and again, until the heat was burning on his skin. Until he was shaking all over. The relief of finally being pleasured, instead of aching and secretly hoping Thomas would fuck him properly instead of treating him like an object, distracted him from all of his awful feelings. Made his head swim with pleasure and his cock tremble as it bounced between his legs, Thomas lifting him up and down his cock.

Dick looked down at Damian’s face, the boy’s head near his knees. Did he realize what was happening above him? Or did he think Dick and Talon’s positions were reversed?

With Dick’s needy moans, why wouldn't Damian think it was Talon being fucked by Owlman?

“Richard, touch me,” Damian gasped, needy and desperate—his neglected cock still red and hard, and he was practically whimpering into the sheets.

Talon’s hands touched Damian’s chest, fingers pulling at his erect nipples. Damian groaned unhappily at Talon’s purposeful mistake. Talon just buried his nose in Damian’s hair, leaving soft kisses on his head and on the shell of his ear. All while deeply thrusting into him and teasing his chest. Damian was squirming underneath him, wanting all types of pleasure at once.

Thomas grabbed Dick’s cock and the feeling alone was so relieving that it wrenched a moan from him. But then he watched as Thomas angled his cock downwards.

“Finish on his face,” Thomas said and the thought of it shamed Dick deeply but he wasn't sure if he could fight back. He was so close, his spread thighs quivering.

Suddenly Talon pulled out of Damian. Damian made a short sound, almost _sobbing_ , at Talon’s absence.

They might have switched places but Talon wasn't going to take the blame for sullying Damian’s face. That guilt was still going to be on Dick’s conscience.

Thomas was pumping him quick and fast, the head of his cock pointed in Damian's direction. Bumping against Damian’s cheek depending on the strength of Thomas’ thrusts, precum staining the boy’s face. Damian just flinched in response. He was preoccupied in lifting his hips up and down, clearly wanting to be filled again. Fucked again. Dick watched him as he moved, entranced, his head going hazy.

Talon leaned over, mouth finding Dick’s chest. His wet, velvet tongue pressed against his nipple, sucking, all while Thomas rammed into him. Dick could feel the familiar tremors running through his body. He was riding Thomas, Talon’s mouth and fingers on his chest, and Damian’s pretty, wanton face below him.

A rush of heat that went through him.

It was too much.

He came, a strangled moan pulled from him, his eyes rolling back. His entire body trembled around Thomas’ cock. His thick seed shot onto Damian’s cheeks and chin. Dick bit on his bottom lip, unable to stop himself as he sullied the boy’s face. When the pleasure finally began to subside, Dick was filled with a deep sense of guilt.

Thomas pulled out. It seemed almost merciful, given how sore Dick’s body was.

“Clean him off.”

Dick didn't need to be told how, the command fairly clear. He took in a shuddery breath and though exhausted, Dick rolled over on the bed, closer to Damian.

He laid his tongue flat against Damian’s skin, feeling the boy flinch but not pull away completely, cleaning his own seed from the boy’s face. His essence bitter and thick on his tongue.

When he was done, Dick felt this strong, lingering feeling of disgust and shame in himself. His mind was reeling back, blaming himself for everything that happened up until this point. Them getting captured. Damian getting tortured and violated by these two men. All the things he had done to Damian personally, from fucking him to dirtying him just a few seconds ago. And most of all his own shortcomings that failed to get them out of there safely.

Dick didn't get to sulk for long. He felt a hand shove his sore shoulder. Pushing him back onto the bed, pillows propped behind him.

“Hold him open,” Talon said, laying Damian against Dick, his back flush against Dick’s chest. Dick clenched his jaw and did as ordered, hands hooking around Damian’s thighs.

What did it matter at this point, really? After everything Dick had done, there was no redeeming himself.

It was easier to just shut up and obey.

So he spread Damian open.

Talon resumed his position between Damian’s legs. Dick watched as Talon’s cock disappeared inside of Damian, feeling Damian arch against him. Dick’s fingers idly ran circles across Damian’s soft thighs, in some attempt of comforting Damian as he was filled. His mind berating himself the whole time, a sinking, depressing feeling washing over him as he watched Talon push all the way in.

Talon didn't skip a beat, immediately resuming his brisk pace from earlier. Talon leaned toward Dick, Damian groaning uncomfortably as he was squeezed between the two men.

“See? Isn't this so much more fun with all of us together?” Talon murmured against Dick’s lips, before kissing him deep, tongue diving into Dick’s mouth. Dick kept still, his mouth pliant, as Talon tasted the very mouth used to clean Damian a moment ago.

Talon suddenly pulled away, making a harsh sound between his teeth. Dick looked up, watched Owlman wrapped around Talon, biting into the crook of his protege’s neck. Dick couldn't see well behind Talon, but it didn't seem like Thomas had entered him. Instead he seemed to be rutting up against him.

Thomas’ mouth moved to Talon’s ear.

“Fuck him harder,” he commanded, voice low. And a shiver seemed to run through Talon and Dick both.

And Talon did, to which Damian twisted against Dick’s body, moaning as Talon fucked him. Damian’s hand reached blindly, gripping onto Dick’s biceps, holding on as Talon drove into him. Dick just kept him spread, ignoring the growing heat on his face as he watched the entire display. Damian crying out and trying to meet Talon’s thrusts. Thomas rocking against Talon, guiding his thrusts inside of Damian. Talon’s gaze, half lidded and clouded with lust.

The power and speed behind Talon’s thrusts was having a strong effect on Damian. Damian’s skin was hot, his body squirming against Dick, making him difficult to hold. But Dick kept him in place.

Damian gave a long moan, his body suddenly shaking. Without his cock even being touched, he came for a second time, spilling onto his lower abdomen. Talon followed soon afterwards, Thomas giving him orders. Harder, faster, deeper, _come_.

Talon pulled out. Damian seemed short of breath and Dick let go of his thighs. As he looked down, he frowned, seeing that Damian was still hard. Even after all of that.

Talon was catching his breath but was still animated. He dragged Damian away from Dick’s embrace, pulling him to the center of the bed.

“He’s still hard,” Talon said idly, index finger picking up Damian’s cock, making him whine, before letting it fall back between his legs. Talon leaned in, kissing Damian’s forehead almost affectionately. He murmured, “Maybe Uncle can take care of you.”

His hand slipped between Damian’s legs, two fingers pushing into Damian’s hole with a sound. They scissored inside of him, stretching him wide open, Talon’s seed dripping from Damian’s ass down onto the sheets. Every heated sigh seemed to punch Dick in the gut, his stomach twisting in revulsion at Talon’s manipulation. From the stupid aphrodisiac to now his attempt to arrange nephew and uncle. Damian’s fingers gripped at the sheets, his back arching up, the fingers teasing his overly sensitive body. Talon’s kisses moved towards the boy’s hairline, kissing the sweat off his skin.

“Is that what you need, little bird? Uncle’s big cock inside of you?”

Damian was practically whimpering as Talon's digits thrusted inside. Talon tilted his head back at Thomas.

“Well? What do you think?” he said.

Thomas didn’t say anything. There was no need to, his visible arousal gave his answer away. Talon released his hold on Damian, allowing Thomas to grab him by the hips and drag him across the bed. Talon watched closely, almost with perverse interest, as the head of Thomas’ cock pressed up against Damian’s entrance.

Damian let out a long groan as Thomas began to push in. Dick didn’t like the sound, especially having felt Thomas’ girth firsthand. Damian was absolutely tiny underneath Thomas, who was even taller than Bruce and seemed to be made of nothing but muscle. His hands alone, resting on Damian’s hips, almost seemed to completely wrap around the boy’s small frame.

Another of Damian’s sounds seemed to pierce the room and despite his better judgment, Dick found himself moving towards Damian—wanting to comfort him, to hold his hand or stroke his hair or _do something_ , but Talon’s arms wrapped around Dick. Talon’s arms felt more like a strange hug than a pin, but it got the message across clear enough. Dick was not allowed to go near Damian.

He could feel Talon’s lips against his ear, his breath fanning across his skin, and Dick wasn’t sure who Talon was speaking to when he breathed, “He’s so tight, isn’t he?”

Thomas’ thick cock was absolutely stretching Damian, who wasn’t at all prepped for something of Thomas’ size. His groans and struggling was constant, seeming torn between the aphrodisiac’s pleasure and the discomfort of Thomas’ cock splitting him wide.

“Take off the blindfold,” Thomas said suddenly.

Talon obliged. Dick’s heart twisted slightly, finally seeing Damian’s face in full, noticing that Damian’s eyelashes were wet. He had been through a lot, the aphrodisiac likely intensifying everything he was feeling tenfold. The drug had to have been unbearable—he already came twice but his cock was still so hard.

With Damian’s unveiling, he seemed all the more helpless. But Thomas didn’t make any disparaging marks about his weakness. In fact, Dick noticed the slight shift in his expression. The almost growing hunger in his eyes as he looked into Damian’s face, the tendons in his massive arms seeming to tighten as he gripped Damian harder, blunt fingers digging into Damian's soft skin. Thomas shoved himself deeper, almost with a vengeance.

His size was too big. Damian’s sounds steadily moved from needy to unhappy. Talon’s arms seemed to tighten around Dick, as if sensing his unease, but Talon’s heated, lusty breaths against Dick’s ear only revolted Dick that much more. Still, he stayed in place, well defeated at this point. Besides, Damian was too vulnerable in this state and making a move would be nothing but risky. Dick didn’t know Thomas well—but the ache on his knee did indicate how quick and dangerous his temper could be.

When Damian cried out, the focus in Thomas’ eyes seemed interrupted.

“Shut him up,” Thomas said bluntly. Talon’s arms slipped away from Dick but Thomas cut in. “Not you.”

Dick felt his stomach turn, not knowing what Owlman expected of him. He inched closer to Damian, who was trying to catch his breath. He placed his hand over his mouth, felt the boy inhale air as Thomas forced the rest of his cock inside.

Damian protested against Dick’s hand, all while Thomas slammed into him over and over. Dick watched, jaw clenched, as Thomas easily picked up the lower half of his body, practically controlling Damian like a ragdoll.

Dick didn't quite understand what Thomas was searching for as he stared intensely into Damian’s eyes, but he did know that he didn't like it.

Thomas’ voice started to grow vocal, his subtle breathing transforming into husky groans and grunts as he hammered into Damian, his thick cock cleaving the boy. Damian’s cock twitched between his legs, his sounds beginning to mellow out as he got used to his uncle’s shape.

It didn't take long for Thomas to finish inside of Damian. He pulled Damian’s hips in tight, pushing inside as deep as he could go when he came, adding to Talon’s load.

When Thomas pulled out, Damian was silent this time around. His entire body seemed to relax as it was dropped back to the mattress, his head resting against Dick’s knee. Dick removed his hand, trying to look into Damian’s face but the boy’s head was turned.

“Satisfied?” Thomas said, moving to the edge of the bed. Without even waiting for Talon’s response, he said, “Get them out of here. I don’t want to see them out of their cell again.”

“Carry him,” Talon ordered Dick, and Dick scooped up Damian, feeling his soft breath fan against his chest. Holding him, Dick felt a strange sense of clarity and calm wash through his body. It felt comforting to have Damian in his arms properly, despite the circumstances.

“Richard,” Thomas said, as they got to the doorway. “Come back here when you’re done.”

Soon enough, Dick and Damian were back in their cell, cuffed, their chains leading to the walls. A pervasive silence filled the room, Dick still trying to come down and process everything that happened. Worried that Owlman’s presence had given them a taste of what their lives would be like for every night to follow—until they were saved, anyways.

Despite everything, Dick still had hope that Batman and the others would come for them.

“Richard.”

Dick stopped at the voice. There was something in the way Damian spoke his name that made Dick more alert, snapping him out of his thoughts. There was a clarity there, like a fog had lifted, not the same as when Damian spoke his name while he was in the bedroom.

He looked up, saw Damian’s wet face. As his eyes lingered, he also saw that Damian was still erect.

“Won’t go down,” Damian breathed. He looked absolutely exhausted.

Dick knew there were cameras on them at all times. That they were being watched. That at best, Talon will amuse himself over the videos. At worst, he'll come into the room and punish them for getting close. But Dick’s impulse was to go to Damian. To pull him into his arms and hold him. So he did.

He moved the best he could to Damian’s cot, reaching the surface just as the chains begin to grow taut. It was hard to move his hands with the cuffs on, not giving him many other options. Dick lowered himself instead, head dipping between Damian’s legs, mouthing over Damian’s erection. The head was still glistening, the taste intense. Damian moved, bucking up towards Dick’s mouth, but the sound he made seemed unsatisfied.

“Inside,” Damian breathed and Dick opened his mouth, ready to suck on the head, but Damian’s chains rattled as he shook his head insistently. “No.”

Dick paused, conflict growing inside of him. It was one thing when he was being forced to do things to Damian—but there was no one barking orders at them inside this cell.

This whole situation worried him. Even when the time came for them to escape… what then? Would Damian’s body and mind ever be the same again? Or would Talon just always be a present, inescapable thought?

Still, Dick straightened his back, resting on his knees. He looked down at Damian, trying to decide the best way to do this with his wrists cuffed together. He settled on laying on his back and Damian took the hint. Without hesitation, his former sidekick climbed on top.

Dick’s eyes closed, body shuddering as Damian slowly sunk himself onto his erection. Damian was so wet that he slipped onto Dick with ease. Damian controlled the pace, bouncing on Dick’s lap, chains filling the silence with every movement, trying to work off the drug.

Dick reopened his eyes. Damian was looking at him. Though his body was flushed and his cock hard, he seemed almost like himself again. His eyes were undoubtedly looking into Dick’s, seeing _him_ instead of an imitation.

Damian finally lowered himself, laying his head on Dick’s chest. Letting Dick take over, thrusting up into him until they both came.

 

Talon just laughed wickedly as he landed on the bed, a stinging red mark on his face. Thomas climbed onto the mattress, body looming over the assassin’s. He yanked roughly on Richard’s arm, forcing him around, because he was only one slap in and he wasn't nearly done with him yet for all the bullshit he just pulled. But the acrobat suddenly wrapped his legs around his middle, as if _he_ was the one trapping _him_.

“Don't be so mad,” he said softly, a mirth to his breath. Thomas looked down at him—dark hair spread out on the mattress, long bangs in front of sparkling blue eyes. Their naked bodies were pressed against one another, Richard lewdly rotating his hips, their cocks brushing against one another’s. “It wasn't all so bad, was it?”

Thomas moved to pull Richard’s legs off of him. With a hand resting on each limb, a thought occurred to him.

He squeezed hard on Richard’s knee.

As he predicted, Richard’s eyelids fluttered.

For all their resemblances, there was no mistaking his identity as he whispered, “ _Harder_.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I felt a little guilty for how poorly I treated Damian in "Prey". I thought I was going to finish this story and feel the same way for Dick that I felt for Damian at the end of "Prey"... but I think Damian was actually the most poorly treated in this story too. :') Sorry Damian, I promise I don't hate you...
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading. Please don't hate me. :')
> 
> Oh also, in other news, I reached 100+ subscribers. To celebrate, I accepted some prompt suggestions from everyone. I'm no longer accepting suggestion BUT in order to decide what I'm going to write, I'm having everyone vote for what prompt I should do. If you'd like to participate in voting, please check out my tumblr page for more details. And of course, thank you all for your support. 
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